


dim the lights (and mute the sound)

by Anonymous



Series: it's inevitable, baby [2]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, is affection a kink?, let's say it is now, uhhhhh lightly kinky spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25688515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Max wakes up curled around Lando, t-shirt rucked between his chest and Lando’s spine so their skin is touching across his stomach and so close together Lando’s breathing is forcing his own into synchronisation, sharing air between them like when they’re kissing.
Relationships: Lando Norris/Max Verstappen
Series: it's inevitable, baby [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861756
Comments: 9
Kudos: 129
Collections: Anonymous





	dim the lights (and mute the sound)

Max wakes up curled around Lando, t-shirt rucked between his chest and Lando’s spine so their skin is touching across his stomach and so close together Lando’s breathing is forcing his own into synchronisation, sharing air between them like when they’re kissing. 

They don’t often sleep like this, Lando having some sort of clinical case of restless flailing that even Max isn’t that keen on braving it out. But maybe the home race excitement had really drained him or the lockdown had made him more unconsciously skin-hungry or something, either way Max isn’t complaining - he quite likes spooning, especially since Lando supports himself enough to not make his arm go numb. 

It’s early and quiet and Max knows being in Lando’s house is dumb. He’s meant to be in his own hotel room - he’s never even been here before, it’s not like they spend a lot of time at each other’s places. Maybe that’s why Lando’s actually letting Max wrap himself round him, not wrestling himself away to hog the duvet and knock Max’s pillow off the bed, comfy on his own memory foam or whatever. 

Regardless, Max likes it. He hardly dares risk moving in case it breaks the spell so just buries his nose in the now-trimmed hair at the base of Lando’s skull, not sure if he misses the messy curls already. Lando’s breathing is deep and even, relaxed where his weight’s resting back against Max and it’s so comfortable Max’s brain is wandering to some weird places about how  _ normal  _ it is. 

Not rushing through getting each other off while they dare to, frantic grabbing at each other at tracks and on Discord. This is the nice, calm pleasure of a cool morning, blinds shifting in the night breeze and Lando’s body tucked against his. 

Max knows how he feels about Lando. He doesn’t really do uncertainty, so it’s never been something confusing to him except that it was a surprise to find out it was mutual, that there was maybe something to nurture between them. And Max is more caring than people think. Probably, at least. He doesn’t really give a fuck what anyone else says, anyway.

He can take the easiness of being with Lando, though. They can whine at each other about racing and careers and other drivers and  _ fucking  _ rFactor and Lando might chuck a couple of insults in, a little teasing but he’s never stopped Max being affectionate to him, doesn’t take the piss that Max loves him. 

It’s nice, getting that - and the moments where Max feels it given back, where Lando comes to him to share his own or Max’s successes, where he just wants to talk to Max or like earlier, when he’d pretty much begged him to fuck him. Max knows Lando’s kind of a slut for him, gets embarrassingly undone at the idea Max wants to spread his legs and fuck him but he’s just as bad when Lando asks for it, makes it clear it’s stuff he  _ wants,  _ thinks about, not just something he’s letting Max do. 

Max has felt love like a storm, all dramatic and buffeted-around - he has racing, for that. With Lando it’s this, the quiet pleasure of lying together and knowing the boy in his arms trusts Max, is as comfy as he is. Possibly even comfier, given Lando’s kind of shifted his weight back to rest his arse against Max’s hips and it’s too suggestive  _ not  _ to be giving him a hard-on.

In the end he can’t resist, cranes his own neck up to suck at Lando’s ear lobe, exposed by his shorter hair and vulnerable to the way Max knows it makes him shiver. He doesn’t quite wake up, grabbing instead for Max’s hand to hold it as he shifts back into him and it’s Max who quietly whines, enjoying the way Lando’s luxuriating on him. 

That does wake him up, curling away a little while Max can feel him shift from boneless sleepiness to blurrily conscious. “Bluuh?”

“It’s early, you’re cute.” Max sucks at his earlobe again, mumbling into it and feels Lando smile, where his nose is pressed against his cheek. 

“Mmmn, you’re horny.” Lando wriggles back against him, stretching and making no attempt to move away, rubbing his arse up against Max’s crotch in a way that says he’s not at all mad about the obvious, even while he is stating it. 

“It’s being in a hot boy’s bed,” Max decides to push his luck, nuzzling at Lando’s neck, “while he’s letting me spoon him for fucking once.”

“‘M comfy, it’s nice.” Lando shifts again, very deliberately grinding back, moving up the length of Max’s dick and making him shudder, even through their boxers. 

It takes a second for Max to form a coherent argument, “Not what you usually say.”

Lando shrugs, sighs, rolls over, pushing himself back up against Max and nudging at him until he lifts his head, lets Lando press his face into the crook of Max’s neck and shoulder, against the pillow. “I like it. It’s nice having you here.”

Max kind of gets that, Lando feeling safer than usual, in his own bed rather than a trackside hotel. This is where they started flirting - or not here, Lando’s old flat but still, away from Formula One and whatever, far away from each other, even - in their own little bubble before it was cool. 

In Lando’s house, they’re just allowed to touch. No one can catch them in bed together, the absolute  _ worst  _ thing that would happen is someone notices Max’s car in the drive and honestly, the likelihood of that is so low - especially when it’s not like they can’t explain it away as “oh no, sorry, we were being big sim nerds.”

He doesn’t think they’re going to need to. Chooses not to waste time worrying about it when he could be kissing Lando’s fingertips, picking his hand up from where it was against Max’s chest. “What do you want?”

Lando smirks against his neck, making a fond noise. “To still be asleep? But you’ve fucked that right up.”

“Mmm,” Max rolls his hips against Lando’s, can feel where he’s definitely not as sleepy as he’s pretending to be just to pull the princess act. 

“Alright, kiss me?” Lando’s smiling against Max’s skin, pulling his hand out of Max’s grasp and rolling back slightly so Max can chase him and Lando can ruck their shirts up even further so there’s not much except warm skin between them, slide his palm down Max’s abs to toy with the waistband of his boxers.

“Fuck.” Max says it into his mouth, not really intending to while he was bending down to kiss him but Lando’s fingertips teasing his dick is easily enough to make him swear. Makes the kiss way hornier than he was originally going for but if Lando feels like moving things along fast then, well, Max has always been into that. 

They can’t really see each other, in the dark, mostly feeling their way around and over and under each other and it’s making it more sensual, making Max greedy to get Lando naked but he keeps distracting him with the hand on his dick every time Max gets a hold on his shirt. He ends up breaking away, panting, “C’mon, too many clothes.”

“You wake me up with your dick and now you’re trying to rip my clothes off? Rude.” Lando’s laughing, pulling Max in for more kisses at the same time as he’s teasing.

“Yeah, well. Can’t blame me for getting excited about your arse.” As soon as he says it, Max knows he’s giving Lando  _ ideas,  _ a sudden, firm stroke ok his dick making his brain fritz enough to leave him getting pushed back into the pillows, on his side again. 

“Mmm, it’s rude. You should wait and get  _ me  _ off, for my trouble.” Max isn’t quite sure why Lando’s tone makes him shiver, even though it’s plenty warm between them under the quilted cover. “C’mon, finger me.”

Max reaches blindly for the lube, knowing it’s where he left it earlier. If they hadn’t showered before settling in then this’d be a lot easier but the spooning might have not been as cute, so whatever. He assumes Lando, shimmying out of his clothes already, wants when Max takes him gently, carefully apart until he comes without getting his dick touched, fucking himself on Max’s fingers and panting, horny as hell. He’s definitely got  _ no  _ problem with that, in the intimacy of darkness, all sound and heat and then Lando can do whatever the hell he wants to him.

It  _ almost  _ goes that way, Lando spreading his legs easily to let Max loom over him, wet fingers working him open. It’s always hot, touching him like this - Lando gets breathy and excited, whines against Max’s bicep where he’s propping himself up and the sheer strength of Lando’s body, when he flexes down, is fucking hot to make shiver apart when Max rubs where he wants it.

Until he stops him, almost reluctantly. “You liked the spooning, right?”

Max suddenly has a  _ really  _ nice image of how they could fuck, like that. “Fuck, yes.”

There’s a pause and he has the skin-tingling feeling Lando’s grinning, in the dark. “Ok, take your clothes off.”

Max half-wipes his lubed hand on his shirt, dragging it over his head and the rest gets smeared on his boxers while he’s chucking them somewhere on the floor. Anything on the bed sheets is Lando’s problem, if he’s being bossy. 

Lando snuggles into him, once he’s undressed, almost like they were sleeping before - Lando’s head hooked over Max’s arm and Max’s chest against his back, Max’s dick against his arse. “Ok?”

His free hand gets grabbed, held, pushed down to Lando’s hip. “Mmm, go in but don’t move.”

It’s a new position, so that seems sensible - while they work out exactly how they fit together, acutely aware the night before a Grand Prix isn’t really the moment for experimenting - and Max is also keen enough to get his dick somewhere wet and tight and hot to not be fully paying attention. Lando lifts his thigh to let Max get space and it’s as lovely as it always is, sinking into him and hearing both their breath catch.

Lando moans, softly and grabs the hand he’d moved to his own hip again. “Get me off.  _ Don’t _ move.”

“What?” Max’s brain is glitching because his dick is being squeezed and Lando’s body is  _ so  _ hot and when he moved his thigh back down things got even tighter. 

He can almost hear the eyeroll when Lando gently moves Max’s hand to his own dick and pats it, encouraging. “Get me off,  _ don’t  _ fuck me.”

Max is about to protest he  _ can’t,  _ because he  _ already is _ but Lando’s dick jumps against his fingers and ok, he can wait a bit if that’s the game. Two of them can be assholes and Max is more experienced at  _ that,  _ for sure.

Lando sighs, breathy and happy, when Max wraps his hand round his dick and the first stroke makes him clench down on Max, tensing into it a little. Max realises slightly too late it’s not only Lando who whines.

“Yes, like that.” Lando pants for a minute, Max working his dick, “But you can’t move. I’m not going to let you move until you make me come, for waking me up.”

“Fuck.” Max tenses his own hips, which is a mistake because everything gets more sensitive. “Lando, fucking hell.”

“No, fucking  _ me. _ ” Lando’s voice is fond and he covers Max’s hand with his own to make him move it again, “Ah, god - yes.”

Max knows how he likes it, hard and firm on the shaft and rubbing his thumb over the head to spread precum he knows will have been from when he was fingering Lando, always halfway to getting off just on the anticipation he will. It’s more and more of an effort not to move, having to use the arm underneath Lando to try and hold him still because Max can only resist  _ so  _ much wriggling while he’s trying not to think about how his own dick is deep in Lando’s body and it feels like lightning across his crotch every time he strokes upwards, makes Lando shift into his own touch. 

“Fuck. God, Lando, stop moving - I can’t” Max is dangerously close to just coming, as Lando whines and throws his head back against Max’s shoulder, arching and forcing himself further back on Max’s dick. 

“Feels  _ so  _ good, Max. You can. C’mon, make me co-” Lando is just straight-up ignoring his pleas, shifting back on Max so much he has to bite down on Lando’s shoulder to stop himself moving, which at least cuts Lando off to moan again. “Fuck, fuck - Max,  _ please. _ ”

He feels like he should really be the one begging, as Lando shifts again and the effort not to roll them both over and fuck him stupid makes Max’s thighs tremble in a way 5 g through a corner can’t. Lando’s dick is wet now, which only serves to make him think about how slick and hot and squeezed his own is and Max has to play dirty to stop himself coming first.

“You’re so hot - fuck - Lando, I swear to god, you feel so good, I just want to fuck you, so fucking much.” Lando makes a strangled noise, Max’s thumb pressing at the head of his dick, on the vein that never fails to send him over the edge and the relief, as he spills over Max’s hand, is almost as hot as the way his body tenses around Max.

“Fuck-” is all he manages to get out, moving his hips exactly once in what could barely be called a thrust so much as a jerky half-spasm, before he’s coming into Lando and whining against his neck, hoping he hasn’t bitten anywhere thermals won’t cover at the same time as kind of wishing he has, on the euphoric comedown.

“Mmmn,” Lando nuzzles his arm, making no effort to move and fuzzy-voiced. “I think I can see the point of spooning now.”

They pant together for a few moments, Max kissing over where he’d used his teeth on Lando’s shoulder - Jon’s definitely going to notice but nothing to be done about it, now.

There’s way too much sticky mess between them to sleep but fucking under the covers means they’d have to actually get up and change the sheets to sort it out and that’s too much effort for the last few hours of sleep. Max barely bothers to pull out, sleepily curling back round Lando and stroking his stomach, Lando settling into him with a comfy sigh.

The last thing Max thinks about, drifting off again, is that Lando laces their fingers together over his heart - and Max is  _ way  _ too over his head in this.

  
  



End file.
